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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209253">it’s inside your soul taking all control</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteague/pseuds/peachyteague'>peachyteague</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sucker Punch (2011)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Romance, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:02:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteague/pseuds/peachyteague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>one shot - it's a crime just a lying here wasting my precious time. i'm so lonely and i'm so blue thinking 'bout the things I could do to you</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blue Jones/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it’s inside your soul taking all control</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>well here’s another oscar isaac for you guys. i’m wondering if i have a type when it comes to his characters. it was supposed to be longer but i got nothing</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>You know he doesn't love you. And you're quite sure that's through no fault of his own. He doesn't know how to love. Not really. He knows how to possess. To take. He certainly knows how to lust. But love? Perhaps it was stolen from him, lost to him, or he had simply never been giving the facilities to feel the emotion. Maybe it had all disappeared with Babydoll. Whatever the case, it suits you just fine. You wouldn't have known what to do with his love if he had it to offer. It wasn't something you'd ever been on the receiving end of and it seemed unlikely to start now. No, no, you had more than enough love left inside your rotting soul for the both of you. At least, you hoped. It wasn't as if you were a reliable narrator in all of this. In truth, he'd never looked at you till she'd gone. Not like that at least. Not in the way the you wanted.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something changes when she leaves. When the dust has settled and all that's left is a new layer of despair. You had thought it impossible for the blanket of hopelessness to be any heavier but how quickly you had been proven wrong. So much death, so much destruction, all for a fallen angel. How quickly people forget that fallen angels were the first residents of Hell and how they would grow to use the weakness of humans. It was the only explanation you could come up with to explain what had happened. Why so many had fallen. Dr. Gorski calls it a delusion. You call her a bitch. Today, you hadn't stopped there. You don't know why, just like you so often don't. Words fall from your lips uncontrollably more than is good for you. She likes to remind you of that in these moments. This time you turn to violence. It’s new, it’s exciting. Hearing the unwatched stapler hit the wall, barely missing the doctor’s pretty face. Restraining you isn't difficult, it's easier when you don't fight, the injection always hurts less that way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Stop,” the good doctor is trying to say when he’s got you tight in his arms, “You’ll only make it worse,” he scoffs, you pray she doesn’t say what you think she might but you should have known God had abandoned you long ago, “It’s what she wants.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He could strap you into the jacket, that’s what he’s always done before. But he doesn’t, carrying your limp body from the room. Injection unused, you want to remember this moment. The long walk to the bare solitary rooms spent entirely in his arms. That could carry you for months if you let it and the small room doesn’t seem too bad. At least no one will interrupt the day dreams. Not unless you let them run a little too far at the wrong time but that was best left to worry about when it might happen. For now you take in the clean smell of him, soap and laundry detergent. He’s warm, much warmer than you remember. Maybe it’s having the time to notice. Either way it’s gone quickly and when you open your eyes you expect to be standing in that tiny room. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This room is tiny but that’s from shelves lined with cleaning products and an assortment of other supplies scattered around. He’s in front of you and he’s looking at you. Somehow it’s more than that. It is the first time he seems to see you. Truly see you. Not passed you, he’s holding your eyes as if he’s trying to dig something out of them. Will you use him? Will you hurt him? Are you just another Babydoll? You don’t have complicated thoughts like that. They seemed to be designed to confuse you and drag you under, neither of those were sensations you enjoyed. It’s why you watch him, head cocked to the side, eyes a bit wider than normal, as if somehow that would make him realize sooner that there was nothing hiding. Who you were had always been on the surface but he still doesn’t seem to believe it. As if this is all part of some game. You wish you were that clever, maybe if you were you wouldn’t have ended up here.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But then you would never have met him, “Who are you?” he knows the answer but that’s not what he means, right?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>The royal who, darling</em>, that woman in your head who sounded like you but far more confident whispered, “Who do you want me to be?” she poured from your lips, daring to cross the line you hadn’t been able to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smirks, a wickedly beautiful thing that darkens his eyes, “Kittens do have claws,” it answers more questions than you had asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’ll sort through them later, knowing if you don’t ride the wave left in her wake that you’ll lose the ability to speak entirely, “And teeth,” surprised by the lightest bit of menace that lilts your tone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He almost shudders, you don’t catch it but she does. And when he steps forward she pulls you back while making it look like your own dancing feet, “You’re different.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Here?” you asked, pointing to the ground and she smiles against your ear, “In general? Can I really be different if you never really knew me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Isn’t it so much more fun when you listen to me? </em>Now knowing why the obscenities had fallen from your lips and the metal flew from your hand. Taking a careful step outside and finding with no drugs to muddle she was free to help you along. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smirks with an amused snort, “Seems like I should’ve been paying more attention,” and when he squeezes your chin with his hand you let him, “I will now.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a heat between your legs. You haven’t felt it in a long time. Even when thinking of him it had always been an abstract concept. There had been no chance of obtaining him that in your perfect day dreams you could forget your “feminine anomaly” as it said in your file. Is it her? Him? You? There is no answer except for that it’s happening and you’re happy to enjoy it for however long it sees fit to stick around. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on, back to your room,” dropping his hand and opening the door while stepping off to the side, “Wouldn’t want to have to punish you, now would we?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>We wouldn’t?</em> But you’re not quite there yet, content to let a smirk curl your lips as you scurried from the room. He watches you, everything in you wants to look but her hands keep your gaze forward. <em>Always leave them wanting more, sugar</em>. She’s starting to sound less and less like yourself but still familiar. You’ve heard it before when...you shake your head, losing those thoughts and replaying the last few minutes instead. Looking same as you ever were to the other girls and yet something entirely new.</p>
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